


Bleu

by orionsspectre



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, I ADORE IT, Widowtracer, but - Freeform, i ship emily/lena, i want to make it extremely clear, the spider and the fly, what about widowtracer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionsspectre/pseuds/orionsspectre
Summary: Lena Oxton has mourned the loss of countless friends in the years since the fall of Overwatch, and she has found herself mourning in a new way. Still reeling four months after the assassination of Tekharta Mondatta at the hands of a woman she thought long dead, Lena is encouraged by Emily to seek out Winston and rejoin the recalled Overwatch. Lena wants nothing more than to find the assassin, but she's unsure if she wants to find her to kill her, or to see her face and give a proper goodbye.Meanwhile, Widowmaker has been busy herself. A surprising lead from a woman thought to be an annoyance has given her a lead on the woman that had attempted to intercept her assassination attempts, and in exchange for this information, the assassin now owes her annoyance a favor in righting past wrongs.





	1. Cabernet

“I’m cold.”

“I know.”

Her teeth were chattering against each other, and the tips of her fingers were turning blue. 

She was afraid. 

“Relax, Lacroix… It’ll be over soon. You won’t have to feel it anymore.” 

An Irish lilt spoke to her in soothing tones, and she felt the warm hand of the voice rest on her forehead. It was comforting for a moment, but then she felt herself being pushed into the icy water; the serum flooding her throat and pulling her deeper into the pool. 

She tried to reach for the woman’s hands, but felt a much stronger pair shove her further into the water. 

She couldn’t breathe.

She was afraid. 

Her vision began to blur, and darkness crept in.

She was going to die. She was going to die and she deserved it for what she did to _him_. 

She felt herself slipping away, and she only hoped she could see his face again and tell him how sorry she was. She could only pray that he could hear her out; she knew she didn’t deserve his forgiveness.

But life was cruel, and as she slipped into unconsciousness she could hear that Irish lilt say to her coworkers, “It’s working. She’ll be unstoppable.”

And she knew she would not get to see him anytime soon, and she would not be able to apologize or beg forgiveness.

 

“You’re licking your wounds at this point, Lena.”

A redheaded woman handed her girlfriend a cup of coffee, extra sweet, and sat on the lounge chair next to the moping brunette.  
Lena set the coffee on the table, turning her back to the woman.

She knew she was pouting. 

She didn’t care.

“Lena… it’s been four months.”

Four months. Four months since that _bitch_ had murdered Mondatta in cold blood. Two months since King’s Row had gone from tense to damn near a war zone. Four months since Lena Oxton had been able to bring herself out into the daylight instead of stalking the streets of London at night, hoping for any trace of that… that… _monster_.

And it had been one week.

One week since Winston had initiated the Overwatch recall. 

“You knew her.” Emily softly said. 

Lena froze, feeling her chest tighten around itself.

She did know her. She had known her for years. Ten years ago she had watched one of her closest friends marry her. She’d allowed her to braid her wild hair.

She adored her.

But she didn’t anymore. And that _monster_ didn’t seem to care anyway. She hadn’t even recognized Lena. 

“Emily…”

Lena felt her girlfriend’s warm hand upon her back, and guilt wracked Lena’s body. 

“You know I’ve always been fine with it. I just don’t want to lose you entirely. So please… Find her. I know you want to.” Emily gently said. 

Lena turned to look at Emily, tears in her eyes.

“I love you, though.” Lena whispered.

“I know you do. And you can love more than one person, Lena.” 

Emily pressed a kiss to Lena’s forehead, going back to sit in her chair, looking out onto the snowy streets of London’s February. The cheer and splendor of Christmas had long since gone. Lena was cold, and she was tired.

_Just like Amélie._

She hadn’t aged at all since she last saw her, and to be fair, neither had Lena. But Lena was warm and had rosy cheeks and looked and felt _alive_.

Amélie was freezing to the touch and blue as though she was a drowned corpse.

She never used to be like that; she used to be warm and have a laugh that could turn the attention of any room on her. She used to be full of life and passion.

Now, on some level, Lena wished she had died when she was kidnapped, instead of morphing into this monster that no longer had the same smile as a woman Lena had long since loved, and had long since mourned.

She thought Amélie had died with Gérard. 

She had mourned when they couldn’t even find a body to say goodbye to.

She had mourned for damn near ten years after.

She had mourned when Commanders Morrison and Reyes were caught in the rubble of the Swiss base. 

She had mourned when Angela held her and told her “there’s nothing I can do… I can’t get through the rubble.” 

She had mourned when Winston was forced into hiding because their family had been shredded apart by bureaucrats hoping to blame someone for the Omnic crisis. 

And here she was, almost a decade later, forever in the body of a twenty-six year old, mourning again.

“Winston recalled you, didn’t he? So go to him. If anyone can help, it’s him.” 

Lena slowly stood, her eyes on the window.

Emily was right.

 

“It was a good kill. Easily one of the best I’ve seen.”

Another shadowy figure in a video screen, and Widowmaker was being told to advertise for him.

“If that’s the case, then you can see why we charge the price we do. Are you in agreement, or not?” Akande asked, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand.

Oh right, he wasn’t Akande anymore.

He was Doomfist. 

“Give my client the rest of the evening to decide. We will give you an answer in the morning.” 

The figure vanished; leaving a blank screen and Widowmaker staring at it apathetically. 

“I would wager they need more time to pull funds together, otherwise they aren’t that serious. And considering what we know of them I don’t expect they’ll turn us down.” Doomfist said, his eyes trained on the assassin. 

She said nothing, just turned on her heels and escorted herself from the room. 

To most in Talon, dismissing one’s self from Doomfist was a potential death sentence, but for her… they all knew she was the reason Doomfist was even there in the first place. 

“Be prepared to leave for the States tomorrow.” he called after her. 

She waved a hand in acknowledgement, escorting herself from the conference area. 

She reached an elevator, swiping a card to allow access to the highest floor, what had been nicknamed as the Spider’s Web by underlings. She understood she should find humor in the joke, but she didn’t. She just kept her eyes trained on the door, listening to whirring of machinery as the elevator took her skyward. 

Oasis was a paradise of sorts, she supposed. Warm weather, beautiful people, and some of the greatest scientific minds all in one place. And the best part was there was an ambivalence towards Talon. These great minds didn’t care if Talon was there, thanks to their own geneticist, they just asked not to be disturbed in their research and day to day lives. 

The assassin would have preferred the familiarity of dark undergrounds, where living in the shadows was a certainty, and being so bold to be out in the open was unheard of.  
The board had their reasons, she supposed. She just didn’t care. 

The elevator came to a halt, and a handprint pad slid open. She pressed her blue palm against the glass, feeling the heat from the sensors as it read her flesh before the doors slid open. 

She was home, or what she had been told to call this place. 

Home felt like it was a million miles away, lost in the days of her youth on the French countryside. 

Her penthouse was ornately designed, like most everything in Oasis. Golden adorned furniture and plush white rugs decorated the room. She had her own kitchen, at her insistence, and a large balcony with two large decorative statues of Aphrodite. She wasn’t quite sure the relevance, considering this was Iraq, but more or less assumed it was meant as a status symbol, or a joke at the assassin’s expense. 

Either way, the statues provided cover, and an extra vantage point. 

She silently walked to her bedroom, a king sized bed neatly made, a large bathroom off to the side, and a spacious closet that she walked for. 

She stripped out of her jumpsuit, settling for a simple pair of shorts and tank top before making her way back to her balcony, overlooking the city. The outskirts of the city were seen on the horizon, a desert that never seemed to end, but the sound of traffic horns and the bustling city center below.

“Nice view, eh?” 

The assassin didn’t flinch, but she glanced in the corner of her eye, seeing the signature purple hair and matching cybernetics of Sombra. 

She sat on the lounge chair, her ankles crossed and sipping from a glass of wine. The assassin hadn’t noticed her presence, but wasn’t surprised. This was Sombra, afterall. All the security in the world wouldn’t stop her from getting where she wanted. 

“I figured you’d be here.” Sombra said, her clawed fingers tapping away on holographic dots in the air. 

The thief, the hacker.

“Did you find anything?”

It was the first time the assassin had spoken in a long while, mostly because she didn’t find a point in speaking as cavalierly as the thief. Sombra grinned, pulling up an image from that night in King’s Row. 

A brunette woman with her hands on twin pistols and donning a bright orange pair of running leggings was flying mid-air towards a balcony. 

“You know her? She was the one that tried to intercept you, right?” Sombra asked, flipping through more images. 

The brunette running along rooftops.

A video of the woman running through a venom mine before seeming to rewind herself and running around the smog. 

The woman holding down a figure before being flung over the edge of a building.

The woman standing on the rooftops, her fists clenched around her pistol grips and glaring up at a stealth plane flying away. 

“Yes. Do you have a name and location?” the assassin asked, her yellow eyes trained on the images flashing in front of her eyes. The hacker snapped her fingers and suddenly the images were all gone, replaced by a familiar logo. Overwatch’s logo.

“I do. But first, you need to tell be about this man.” 

An image replaced the Overwatch logo, and for the first time in a long long time, the assassin didn’t know what to say.

It was a wedding photo. A man with a neatly groomed mustache stood smiling next to his bride, who had a soft smile and rosy cheeks and a hope in her eyes destined for the future.

“Who is he?” Sombra asked.

“A ghost.” 

The assassin turned her eyes back to the Iraqi horizon, her lips pressed in a firm line. 

She didn’t know if Sombra was playing with her or not, and it was likely, but she didn’t want to look at the image. She didn’t want to remember. She was promised she would never have to.

“That ghost was murdered by his wife, and his wife disappeared.” Sombra said, her eyebrow arched. The assassin said nothing, just kept her eyes trained on the horizon. 

“But, I found out who may have put his wife to the task, and I also found out that the team that reconditioned her has been blacklisted from Talon, and that team may have taken something from yours truly.”

The assassin turned back to Sombra, curiosity crossing her features for a fleeting second. 

“I’ll give you this information, and you’ll owe me a favor. But I’ll warn you; somewhere in that head of yours you already know the hermana. All I may do is jog your memory.” 

The assassin gave a nod, and Sombra’s face erupted into a grin.

“What does the name “Tracer” mean to you?”

 

“Do you remember me? I hope you do. It seems like yesterday I was a bridesmaid in your wedding.” 

Lena sat in front of the gravestone, Gérard Lacroix’s name before her. She’d brought lilies, something she remembered being his favorite, and she brought her own lunch and a bottle of Cabernet. 

She had two wine glasses poured out, one for her, one for him, and she took a small sip of the wine, her nose scrunching at the bitterness. 

“Still not sure how you were able to drink this stuff. Though to be fair, mine was from a liquor store, yours probably came from a really nice vineyard.” she babbled.

She had only frequented this grave once before; at his funeral. His mother had been distraught, and his father in law was a broken man; his daughter was stolen from them and her husband was dead. She was grateful in a way. Amélie’s father never knew what happened to her before he died, and she’d be sure he’d be rolling in his grave if he ever found out.

“Overwatch is back. I’m actually on my way to Gibraltar, if you can believe it. I just… needed to see you first.” 

There was silence. Of course there was. The dead didn’t speak back.

“We found Amélie… Or rather, I found her. I can’t say for certain but I don’t think you’d like what she’s become.” she softly said, her gloved hand reaching out for the headstone. 

“I was always so jealous of you, Gérard. You got the girl. But I was so happy for you at the same time. You were such a good friend, and I could see the joy she brought you. I’m just sorry it turned out like this.”

She took another drink of wine, her nose scrunching again. 

“And I still can’t believe you wouldn’t drink anything but wine at my birthday party. In my favorite pub, no less.” 

She smiled, finishing her glass. 

“I’ve got to get going soon. Winston is waiting for me, and I’ve got to find her. Amélie, that is.” 

She stood, putting a cork in the bottle of wine, stretching her arms above her head. 

She put another hand on his grave, a sad smile upon her face. 

“I’ll find her, Gérard. Whatever that means, I know I’ll find her.”

Across the street, hidden by a line of taxis and busy Parisian traffic, stood a woman with a hood pulled over her head and her hands in her pocket. Her yellow eyes remained trained on the brunette in the cemetery. The brunette stood, placed a hand on the gravestone and said something. The assassin caught her lips move, and was able to make out, “I know I’ll find her.”

Then the woman was gone, a streak of blue light in her place, and she was already across the block and headed toward the airport. 

The assassin walked to the grave the brunette had been at, looking down and seeing a glass of wine and a half empty bottle next to it. She reached down, picking up the glass and taking a sip.

Cabernet. 

It was Gérard’s favorite.


	2. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena has accepted the recall of Overwatch, looking forward to hearing from old friends and hopeful some that have turned their back on this life may reconsider. Upon arrival at an old outpost, she finds that some things have stayed the same, but others are very different and Winston is hiding something from her. New danger arises when Lena and those she cares for are being watched, and she's given a heavily implied ultimatum.
> 
> Meanwhile, Widowmaker is doing what she does best, except this time a hunt has gotten complicated and unexpected threats have made themselves known. Someone has given her bad intel, and she's left to begrudgingly trust a person she finds more irritating than anything else.

Not much had changed about her sleeping quarters. 

A simple bunk rested against the wall that had been covered in posters. In her youth, and that phrase was comical to her now, Lena had been an avid collector of Overwatch posters. The smiling face of Jack Morrison, the motivational recruitment, it had all reeled her in like a fish.

The pilot program had sealed her fate, quite literally.

When she arrived in Gibraltar, the first thing she did was hug Winston. He’d been overjoyed when she contacted him again, and she could almost hear the tears in his voice when she told him she was coming back.

Coming home, in a way.

“Dr. Ziegler will be coming back! Mei too! She’s on her way back from Ecopoint!” Winston had said, showing her around the ghost town of a facility. Everything was running and online, no doubt in thanks to Athena. 

“Mercy? She’s coming?” Lena was surprised. Angela Ziegler had devoted herself to Doctors Without Borders the last she’d heard. As for Mei, when Winston told her the harrowing details of how she’d been frozen for the past decade, Lena physically shivered herself. 

Mei was the only one to make it out of Ecopoint. 

Lena didn’t know how Mei could be so willing to come back.

“What about Jesse?”

Winston grew quiet at that, but he didn’t look sad, more irritated than anything.

“He keeps saying he isn’t a hero. He used to just hang up on me, but I can keep him on the phone for a few minutes now. So… maybe.”

Lena rolled her eyes. 

McCree always did have a flair for the dramatic. Typical cowboy.

When he showed her the workshop, she saw that there were broken machines and shotgun splatter across the walls. 

“What happened?” she asked, her eyes narrowing at the destruction. 

“There was… an intruder. It was dealt with though. So don’t worry about it.” he nonchalantly said, moving her to a much neater part of the workshop. He was in a loft up above the workshop that had a large, bullet-proof, window overlooking both the sea and the base. 

It was home. The view of the ocean was home.

“What about Genji?” she asked, leaning against the desk as Winston sat in his chair; peanut butter cans litter his desk. She smiled to herself; he never changed. She was so glad he was one of the few things that never changed. 

“Genji is considering it. He’s somewhere in Nepal at the moment.” Winston said. 

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t missed them. From the time she was a young pilot and had her accident to the time she was a hopeful cadet wanting to change the world, Overwatch had been her home. Winston had been her friend. Angela had been a lifeline. Genji had been her partner.

“I saw Amélie. She was the one that shot Mondatta.” Lena quietly said.

Winston said nothing. 

He already knew.

“I need to find her, big guy.”

He looked at Lena, sadness in his eyes this time. 

“She’s with Talon, Lena. You can’t turn her back.” 

She stared at her trainers, digging her toe into the floor. She knew that, of course. She had recognized the stealth plane and the nature of this attack. She had fought the same woman at the Overwatch museum months prior, although she’d never gotten a good look at her face behind that strange set of goggles she wore. 

She recognized the techniques from back in the old days. 

Talon had been around for quite some time. 

“I’m not going to try to. But I need to find her.” she insisted, still unable to meet the wise ape’s eyes. She and Winston both knew she would absolutely try to change her back if she could.

He sighed and pressed a button. 

“Did you hear all of that, Athena?” he reluctantly said.

“I did. I will start running a search.” 

The main monitor at Winston’s desk came on, the blue glow illuminating the room. Lines of code soon began to fill the screen and the quiet hum of machinery springing to life filled the silent void of the workshop. 

“It’ll take awhile. You’d be best to go and rest. Your room is the same one.” Winston said, opening another jar of peanut butter.

 

She found herself lying on her old bunk now; her head turned to another bulletproof window. Her room had always faced the sea; a commodity she had been more than grateful for. She had always been able to see the white crests of the waves as they hit the rocks, and she’d always enjoyed going for her morning runs along the beach. She remembered fondly the few times new recruits would try to run with her, and how after their first run they never volunteered for a second. 

“Lena, you have an incoming message.” 

She sat up in bed, her eyes finding the light of the computer screen in her room. 

A picture appeared before her, causing her eyes to widen and to instinctively reach for her pistols.

It was her, sitting at Gérard’s grave. 

There was another picture of her, leaving her flat. 

There was another picture of her, younger, standing in the rubble of the Swiss Headquarters. 

Then there was a simple line of text:

“We’ll be in touch soon.” 

“Athena, can you get me the origin of that email?” she asked, already on her phone to tell Emily that she needed to leave London immediately. Who ever had these pictures had been following her for some time, and she couldn’t let Emily get hurt.

As Emily picked up the phone, a line of text appeared again.  
“Hang up.”

“Hello? Lena?” Emily’s voice sounded worried, and another picture appeared, a still image of Emily on the phone next to the kitchen window of their flat. 

“Hey, uh… I forgot why I needed to call you. I love you, but I gotta go.” Lena stammered, hanging up. 

“I’m unable to obtain a trace on the origin point. I will continue digging.” Athena said. 

More text scrolled across the screen, this time just a string of numbers Lena quickly realized were flight coordinates. She scrambled to find a pen and paper, writing the numbers down just in time to see a date. 

“Tuesday, June 6th.” 

She jotted it down, a frown on her face.

She looked up in time to see a final message:

“Don’t tell anyone.”

She clenched her teeth, her eyes snapping to the outside window. 

Someone knew she was here, and if they knew she was here that meant they knew Overwatch was recalled. She looked down at the coordinates, quickly recognizing them from her days in flight school. 

Someone was playing a game with her. 

 

“I’m in position.”

Widowmaker was wearing a heavy coat, high up in an enormous pine tree peering through her scope at the Hudson Lodge. The great white north of Canada would make almost anyone shiver, but she wasn’t anyone. She was never bothered by the cold anymore. 

The client had come through, deeming her services worth their steep price, and she had found herself in North America, chasing down some environmental activist across the continent. She’d tracked him from Chicago to Los Angeles, and finally she had him in Canada.

He was currently riding up the gondola to the top of a more challenging slope, and he had several high-profile businessmen with him. Every few feet there was a tree in her way, and she wasn’t ignorant to the body guards littering the forest. 

They wanted to make it challenging for a sniper, it would seem. 

She sat back in her deer stand, waiting for the man to get to the top, repositioning the Widow’s Kiss to lean into a notch the tree branches made themselves. 

It was hunting season, and she was well within the sporting area. If they found her deer stand they could only assume it was a hunter that had used it. Afterall, a hunter’s rifle could never make a shot this long. 

But she was not a deer hunter, and the Widow’s Kiss was not a game hunting rifle. 

The gondola reached the top, and Widowmaker waited for a moment as the man steadied himself on his skies. Once he started making his decent she held her breath.

_One_

She thought of Sombra’s offer; to hunt down the team that took everything from her.

_Two_

She thought of how after everything was said and done, Moira had offered to take her pain away, and how she did. She wondered if Moira knew of what happened to her. 

_Three_

She pulled the trigger and watched as the man crumpled halfway down the slopes, his blood painting the snow a rosy red.

She thought of Tracer, and her defiant glare up at the Talon stealth plane, and how as Widowmaker took off into the night, she could see the woman’s hands shaking around her pistol grips. 

She thought of the picture of her sitting in front of Gérard’s grave, and how she looked both full of sorrow and resolve at the same time, and how she’d left a glass and bottle of his favorite wine at his grave. 

She had clearly cared for Gérard, and that meant in that distant past life, Widowmaker had probably known her. 

“Target eliminated.” she murmured into her earpiece, watching as the body guards swarmed the body. She began her descent, freezing when she heard a sound she had not expected. 

The baying of hounds, and they were much too close.

There had been more guards hiding in the woods.

She gave a curse under her breath, shooting her grappling hook out to the furthest tree to propel herself forward, much faster than her legs could carry. Hounds were not supposed to be apart of this security detail. Hounds would catch the scent of someone fleeing. 

Hounds were a complication. 

She landed on a branch of the tree, shooting her grappling hook out again and flying forward once more. 

The baying had gotten louder.

“They had dogs.” she hissed into her earpiece, flying through the forest towards the road. 

A car was supposed to be waiting for her, and as she cleared the forest she saw a black sedan speeding towards her in the distance. It came to a screeching halt in front of her on the roadside, and she jumped into the passenger seat, only to find there was no driver.

There was no one else in the car. 

“You owe me for this, hermana.”

Sombra’s voice crackled to life over the bluetooth speakers, and the car sped off, just as several guards were making their way out of the forest. 

“They never should have caught up with me that quickly. How did they find me?” Widow demanded, her eyes on the rearview mirror as a large, bald man with a fierce looking hound disappeared into the distance. She had Widow’s Kiss in the low ready; her finger hovering over the trigger. 

“We received bad intel. Or were set up.” Sombra said, her voice having a slight echo to it.  
“Where are you taking me?” Widow asked, looking into the mirror again. 

“Safe house. We need to lay low. There are security agents crawling all over every airport in the region. Who ever organized this job has a bone to pick with you, hermana.” 

After two hours of driving through the woods, the car came to a halt at a small hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere. Widow got out of the car, her eyes scanning the trees to check for anyone that may have found the safe house before her.

She held her weapon against her hip, slowly opening the door to find the glow of a fire already coming from the living room. She rounded the corner, weapon up, ready to kill whomever inhabited the residence. 

“Whoa! Chica, it’s me!”

Sombra held her hands up, holographic screens dancing around her. 

Widow lowered her weapon, closing the door and dead bolting it behind her. She sat near a window, peering out into the snowy expanse. 

“Do Doomfist and Reaper know?” she asked, her eyes scanning the treeline. 

“Yeah. And they’re pissed. Gabe wants to get us on the quickest flight out of here, but Doomfist needs us to lay low for now. He smells a rat, and needs to take it out.” Sombra said, tapping away at her holograms. 

She pulled up a video of the lodge, studying the footage. 

Widow turned back to the thief, feeling the warmth of the fire for the first time since she’d walked in the door. 

Sombra’s brow was furrowed, and Widow could see the reverse image. 

The lodge had it’s typical tourists, and it was filled with security for the now dead activist. 

But just as the assassin was about to turn her gaze back to the window, a quick flash darted across the video feed. 

And Widowmaker could have sworn it was blue.


	3. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone knew about Widowmaker's mission in the Canadian north. Lena receives a warning from an unknown source and is reunited with a friend that understands frigid conditions better than anyone Lena knows. What remains of Overwatch is informed of an assassination request for Widowmaker herself, but when Lena tries to intercept it, things go awry.
> 
> Meanwhile, Widowmaker spends an uncomfortable amount of time with Sombra, but learns some new information as to why the job didn't work out as planned. Reaper and Doomfist are unable to do an extraction for the time being due to a locked down Canadian airspace, leaving the Talon women to fend for themselves laying low in a tiny cabin, hoping the airspace restriction finishes soon, instead of trapping them in the arctic wilderness.

“Still no trace of her?” Lena asked, staring out into the snowy expanse of the arctic. 

She sat in the communication room, shivering underneath a large blanket as Athena whirred behind her. 

“No. I have not been able to detect any communications going out of the region either. She has gone dark.” Athena said. 

Lena clenched her jaw, either to stave off the cold or out of frustration, she wasn’t sure. 

How close had they been to finding her to only watching her vanish without a trace? They had good intel, they knew the probable target, they had every spare resource set up. They had that anonymous tip… What happened?

“Would you like some tea Lena?” 

Her eyes went from the frozen expanse before her to the kind eyes of a friend she’d missed dearly. 

Mei stood next to her, two mugs in hand, with her little robot hovering around. When Winston had announced Mei had arrived at Gibraltar, Lena had gotten to the landing pad before she was able to disembark from her plane. 

It had been a decade too long, and Mei was overjoyed to see her old friend. A little part of Lena became more whole that day; the team slowly getting back together. 

When Lena had told Mei her intentions regarding Amélie, she’d expressed concern and worry. One, because she hadn’t known what had happened to Amélie in the years she’d been in cryo, but also because if she’d turned into such a dangerous assassin that didn’t even recognize Lena, she wasn’t optimistic. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.” Lena had said.

“That’s when I worry most.” Mei had replied. 

And that led the duo to the Great White North, after Athena had picked up a suspicious black market transaction very simply labeled “Looking for an exterminator, one that specializes in spiders.”

It couldn’t be more obvious than that. 

What was not as obvious was who had found them digging.

Simple code began getting transmitted to an old VPN that was once used so the public could see old declassified mission files from Overwatch’s glory days. Who ever used that VPN managed to contact Winston directly, and just give a simple message:

_The target is a fake. The target knows._

That left Lena, Mei, and Winston in a scramble to get to Canada. If the target knew, the target could prepare. If the target could prepare…

Amélie was in danger. 

Part of Lena felt smug; knowing she wouldn’t complete another assassin was satisfying in it’s own way, but the other half of her was worried. 

A dead Amélie wasn’t able to be saved. 

So they tried to intercept, and all Lena had been able to gather from the lodge was that the activist was definitely not there, and it felt much too… rehearsed. The people in the lodge almost looked like actors in a play. They hesitated in conversation before smiling too much, and they seemed to laugh a little too hard. 

It was creepy. 

Something was off. 

And during her stay at the lodge, she’d seen one too many suspicious glances her way, and one too many pairs of trained eyes on her as she walked to her room. 

She had a fear that maybe _she_ was the target afterall. 

But the shot was set up, and the forest was swarmed with tracking dogs before Tracer had known what was going on.

And then a few guns were trained on her before she could attempt to track the shot.

She blinked out of their sights, no doubt leaving the bodyguards confused, and leaving her with more questions and no leads as to where Amélie had gone. 

It felt like a bust, until she heard over radio chatter in the safety of the Overwatch bunker that all airports were on high security alerts and the government had cracked down on their airspace. No one was getting in or out without some sort of clearance.

Even private planes.

She didn’t trust Talon to use an airport. If anything, one of their stealth planes were hidden in the wilderness somewhere and ready to fly out at any second. But restricted airspace was going to be a problem for them if any of the Canadian military’s radar picked them up.

She sent a silent thank you to whoever ran the Royal Canadian Air Force; hope was not entirely lost. 

“We’ve sent a few surveillance drones out into the countryside. Hopefully they’ll find something.” Mei said, sitting in a chair next to the monitors. 

Lena looked back out at the snow.

Hopefully they did.

 

It had been four days since the assassination, and the airspace restriction still hadn’t been lifted.

And Sombra would not. Shut. Up.

“Do you think Gabe even realizes that he yells “DIE DIE DIE” when he’s in the zone?” Sombra asked, stretching her legs so her toes could get warmed by the fire. 

Widowmaker glared at her companion, and Sombra just shrugged in reply. She had never been bothered by Widowmaker before, and even spending four days in a cabin with her she wouldn’t be bothered now.

The resilience was impressive, but the context made Widow want to beat Sombra’s head in with the butt of her rifle.

“Fine. Don’t answer. I personally think he flexes in the mirror and tries to act machismo. He’s probably just a big puppy when he’s not slinging his shotguns around like some sort of lunático.” Sombra mused, standing up and stretching her arms high above her head. 

Widow remained by the window. If she wasn’t looking out the window she was out scouting or hunting; they had not expected the lockdown, and therefore they hadn’t brought much food. If she wasn’t doing that, she was sleeping. 

“When will Reaper or Doomfist come for us?” she asked, ignoring Sombra’s babbling. 

The thief pulled up a digital screen, reading through some sort of chat log she had running with their companions.

“They found some sort of leak. Someone in Talon was taking the phrase “sharing is caring” a little too seriously.” she said, studying her screen. 

“Have they dealt with the leak?” Widow asked.

“Do you know Gabe at all?” Sombra scoffed.

Fair enough. Reaper most likely didn’t leave much left of the leak after they’d been interrogated, and Widow knew she’d be the same. 

A message popped up on Sombra’s screen and Widow saw the woman’s smirk turn into a frown.

“The leak seemed very focused. Only one Talon profile was leaked.”

Widow already knew where this was going.

“It was you.”

Sombra pulled up another screen, tapping her fingers furiously away before giving a small huff of disappointment. 

“Looks like it wasn’t Overwatch, whatever little numbers they may have. This was outside them. I’ll try to work on getting a destination for those leaked files, but this looks a little more professional than a simple leak, hermana.” Sombra said, surrounding herself in screens. 

Widow pursed her lips, turning back to the window. 

This felt too set-up. With the exception of Moira, the team that had… enhanced Widowmaker had been scattered across the globe. No one had disclosed why, but from what Sombra had been able to gather, they had been tinkering with more they were authorized too behind Moira’s back.

Moira did not like her research being meddled with.

Moira would kill for things of that nature. 

Widow lowered her tactical helmet, able to see the infrared of the security sensors Sombra had deployed, and a few rabbits scampering among the forest. 

“When can they get me out of the country?” she asked, still scanning the woods. 

“Only you? You planning on leaving me here?” Sombra asked, her tone clearly playful.

“We both know you can get over the border without being detected. I cannot.” Widow hissed. Sombra shrugged, turning back to her screens. 

“I have a feeling the team that messed with your head is trying to mess with your everything else too. You’ve got a target on your back chica, and it isn’t that tattoo.” Sombra said, her tone much more serious. 

Sombra was many things. 

A thief, a hacker, and a liar.

But she was never really “wrong.” Her hunches had always been correct, and she’d never outwardly lied to Widowmaker, only held back the truth when necessary. 

Widow was inclined to believe this hunch of hers. 

“I’m going to lay down. Let me know if you find something.” Widow said, grabbing her weapon and silently walking to the small bedroom. 

Sombra had insisted on sleeping on a cot in the living room, “Closer to the big fire!” she had said. While the small bedroom had an actual bed, it had only a small wood stove and wasn’t quite as warm. 

The cold suited Widow just fine. 

She set Widow’s kiss against the bed at the headboard, always in arms reach, before taking off her boots and helmet. She crawled under the covers and stared up at the ceiling; annoyed she was trapped, annoyed Sombra wouldn’t stop talking.

Curious too. 

What did the team that had changed her do? Why did they leak Moira’s research? What did Moira know about this?

She knew that if she’d made it back to Oasis, she’d be sure to ask. 

She closed her eyes and could hear the howling wind outside. She pulled the blankets up higher, covering her face with them and focusing on her breathing; in and out. She wondered what Tracer was doing.  
She turned on her side to face the small wood stove.

It’s embers glowed orange, much like Tracer’s leggings, and she closed her eyes again.

 

She had been dancing for over three hours in rehearsal.

When her Mistress finally called for a break, she had been more than happy to find her water bottle and wipe the sweat from her brown. 

She had been with this company since the beginning of her ballet career, but it was surprisingly the first time she’d ever performed in Swan Lake, being cast as Odette of course. 

“You look amazing.”

She turned to a familiar voice to see a woman she was wonderful friends with standing near the orchestra pit, looking up at Amélie in awe. Something itched in the back of her mind; for some reason, even though she knew she was incredibly close to the short-haired woman.

She had brown hair that was messy in a way that suited her, and she was a good four inches shorter than Amélie. Her eyes were a warm honey-brown, and she was sporting a new piercing in her ear Amélie hadn’t seen before. 

But she was also in her blue Overwatch uniform.

“Thank you, chéri. How long have you been watching?” Amélie asked, sitting on the stage in front of the woman. 

The woman gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Awhile…” she mumbled. 

Amélie laughed, and the brunette looked even more sheepish. 

“Anyway… I came bringing a bit of bad news.” the woman started, looking at her shoes. Amélie stopped laughing, and her smile turned from a happy one, to a sad one. She already knew what the woman was going to say.

“It’s alright. Gérard told me he may get extended on his assignment.” she gently said. The woman looked up at her with an apologetic expression, but Amélie waved her hand as if to shoo the melancholy feeling from the air.

“I guess that just means you have to come to my recital. Oui?” 

The woman’s eyes lit up, and she gave a smile. 

“I’ve got leave this weekend, it lines up perfectly!” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Amélie patted her head, hearing the Mistress clap her hands; the symbol that break was over. 

“I’ve got to get back to it, but I’ll see you this weekend. Adieu, mon chéri.” Amélie said, waving at the woman. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Catch ya later!” the woman said with a large smile on her face. In a blink, she was gone, and Amélie turned back to the Mistress as the orchestra began tuning their instruments for act two. 

She smiled to herself before extending her leg forward and launching into her dance; the woman had never let her down.

 

When Widowmaker woke up, she was breathing hard, much too hard for what her change had allowed. Soft music could be heard from the living room and she knew Sombra had drifted to sleep, always playing music before drifting off. 

She turned to look out the window of the small bedroom, seeing that snow had begun to fall at a heavy rate before looking down at her shaking hands.

She had not dreamed since she had been changed.

She had dreamed of Tracer.


	4. Yukon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Mei finally catch a break as to where the elusive Widowmaker is hiding, thanks to a sudden breach in the locked down Canadian air space. They hunt down a Talon stealth plane and are thrust into battle with a man that can turn himself into a ghost and seems to know who Lena is already.
> 
> Widowmaker is not feeling like herself, and when Sombra makes a startling discovery, her allies in Talon begin to scramble to find out what went wrong with her enhancements and how they can fix it before it eliminates Widowmaker and Lena's shot at possibly bringing her back.

To be shaken awake by Death himself was a surprise Widowmaker had not been expecting. 

Reaper wasn’t rough however, since he had first met Widowmaker they had discovered something resembling mutual respect between them; two predators willing to help the other hunt on occasion. 

“You didn’t hear me come in.” he gruffly said; everything coming out of his mouth resembling a growl. 

Widowmaker sat in bed, not looking at him but at her hands; she had not heard him come in, and that was extremely troubling. She felt as though her mind were in a fog, and she looked around the small room. 

Reaper was stoking the fire in the little wood stove, sitting on the edge of her small bed. In the living room, she could hear Sombra chatting away on her holo device. 

“Did you bring anyone else?” she asked. He shook his head, stoking the fire more. 

He was quiet for awhile, not looking at her directly but she knew he was observing her in _”his way.”_ He knew how to look for subtleties and he should, he had been killing for much longer than she. 

“Are you sick?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. 

It was typical of him, she bitterly thought, to assume the role of a squad leader. It was appear that old habits die hard, even for the Reaper himself. 

“I don’t know.” she replied, in more of a whisper than anything. 

He looked at her then, the eyes of his mask black holes, but she knew that somewhere under there were crimson eyes analyzing her. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t snatch her hand away when his clawed glove gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer so she was forced to look at him. 

It wasn’t malicious, she decided, but it was stern. 

He was still a man of emotion, even though he fought so hard to kill them off. 

He still cared for his underlings. 

“Widow. What’s wrong?”

She felt the fog grow heavier in her mind, and a tunnel began to form around her vision. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, only it wasn’t his voice this time, and she wasn’t looking into the abyss of his eyes. All she saw were big brown eyes, with blue goggles resting on messy brown hair. 

She felt a shock of pain against her cheeks, and her vision cleared up once more. 

Reaper had his free clawed hand gripping her cheeks, the points digging into her skin. 

“Widow. Wake up.” he growled, shaking her from the lingering fog. 

She couldn’t speak, but she was aware once more. Sombra burst in the room, a frantic look in her eyes as she pulled up a file. All that was visible was the phrase _Project Araneae_. 

“They put a kill switch in her.” she said, putting dozens of files into the air. Many of them were of her anatomy, showing the changes in her bones and muscles, before pulling up a scan of her brain. There was a small red region glowing near her brainstem.

“Moira signed off on that?” Reaper asked, letting her cheeks go. 

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve got all of her notes right here and it says over and over that Moira did not want a kill switch installed. She thought it would mess with the other enhancements.” she said, pulling up even more files, all of them in Moira’s particular vernacular. 

“Get Moira on comms now.” Reaper growled. 

Within an instant Sombra had a video feed connecting to Moira’s office, her pale face lit by a magenta glow. Sombra had completely took control of Moira’s computer systems, and Moira had no choice but to pay attention. 

“If this is about making it so you can interface with an AI then-”

“No, it’s about Project Araneae.” Reaper said.

Moira looked surprised, Sombra made the room visible to her, and she saw Reaper and Widowmaker too. 

“I’m not going to bother asking how you knew about that, but I can tell you that Project Araneae was denied.” she coolly said, tapping her nails against her desktop. Sombra shook her head, and pointed at Widow.

“Does that look like a cancelled project to you?”

Moira narrowed her eyes, examining Widowmaker as though she were a test subject, and for all purposes, she was. 

She knew she must have looked terrible. She felt lethargic, and she had to fight every instinct in her body not to just lay down and sleep. Reaper would never admit to it, but he was keeping her upright with a hand placed firmly between her shoulder blades. 

“Someone installed the killswitch anyway, doc. We need it removed.” Reaper growled. 

“I understand. Get Lacroix to Oasis as soon as possible. Sombra, I’m assuming you can find a way to get around Canadian radar?” Moira said, jotting down a few notes. 

“Already working on it.” she said, pulling up more screens. 

Widow felt her eyes grow heavy, and her body began to slump against Reaper’s. The tunnelling around her vision was happening again, and though she could faintly feel Reaper’s claws dig into her flesh, she couldn’t bring herself to stay awake. 

“Get the radar down within the next two hours, Sombra. We need to fly out by the end of the day.” 

Reaper’s voice seemed distant, and she felt him gently lay her back on the bed before covering her with the blanket. That sort of sentimentality had no place in Talon, but she was appreciative at the gesture. 

 

“The Royal Canadian Air Force is reporting a breach.” 

Lena perked up at Athena’s voice, awakening both her and Mei from the naps they had taken in the control room. She grabbed her coat and refastened her shoes. It was game time.

“Where?” she asked, taking off for the dropship. She barely heard Mei call out for her to wait up, and she felt a little bad that she didn’t care. She was already in the cockpit of the dropship and firing up it’s engines when Mei climbed aboard, still fastening her bootstraps. 

“Putting your coordinates in. The breach is in the Yukon.” 

“Buckle up Mei, we’re taking off and we’re gonna be coming in hot.” Lena barked, hearing the woman squeak as she scrambled to fasten her harness. Her little robot nestled in close, fastening itself to it’s dock on her freeze ray.   
Lena took off, her piloting instincts coming back to her as she jetted north to the tundra; hoping to make it before Amélie vanished once more. She didn’t want it to happen again.

She couldn’t let her just slip away. 

It only took thirty minutes of fast flying, and Lena was thankful for Athena’s ability to cloak the dropship from the Air Forces’ radars, before she saw a black stealth plane in the distance, slowly rising from the forest below. 

“Mei, hold on. It’s going to get bumpy!” Lena said, taking a sharp turn with the ship. She had it on a course set above the stealth plane, and when she was in place she set the control of the drop ship back to Athena.

“You ready?” she asked, drawing her pistols and turning to Mei.

“Ready for what? We haven’t even discussed a plan!” Mei said, hopping up and gripping her freeze ray with a shaking hand. 

“We need to ground the plane and take her out. Once we jump ship, Athena is gonna fly out of range so we have a ride out of here.” Lena said, her fist hitting the drop-bay doors. Mei squeaked at the sudden rush of cold air, the wind whipping violently beneath them. 

“Ready?” Lena asked, drawing both of her pistols and fastening her goggles to her face. 

“No, but I’ll do it anyway.” Mei said, her voice a mixture of anxiety and exasperation, her freeze ray at the ready. 

Lena gave her a nod before jumping from the dropship, Mei right behind her. 

She landed on the stealth plane with a _thud_ , knowing that their presence had been announced. She didn’t particularly care; if Amélie came out to investigate then it would make Lena’s job much easier. 

_”Agents, look out!”_

The wind was whipping around the two like a hurricane, and if it weren’t for Athena she wouldn’t have looked behind her to see black smoke pooling on the rear of the plane, materializing into a man brandishing two shotguns in each hand. 

He had a mask on; it looked like the skeletal head of dead cattle, and he was clad in black with a hood pulled over his head. Lena pointed her pistols at him and darted forward, letting a barrage of bullets fly his way. 

The man fired one shotgun in her direction, pointing the other at Mei. 

Lena cursed to herself, for a moment angry she had forgotten that Mei wasn’t nearly as fast as her, but then she caught a look in Mei’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

Determination.

Mei fired a quick blast from her freeze ray, freezing the man’s gun before it could fire. She darted out of the man’s way, her free hand twisting a setting on the ray before she caused a massive ice wall to form on one of the wing’s to the plane.

The plane took a sharp turn, the wall forcing the plane in that direction. 

Lena was in awe for a split second, landing on a lip to the other wing. 

“Overwatch.” the man hissed. 

Lena’s attention was brought back to the shadow man, who himself was balancing precariously on the edge of the ice wall. She drew her weapons on him again, letting a blitz of bullets fly his way. He seemed to turn _into_ the smoke then, and he flew right towards Lena.

She blinked out of his path, landing near Mei. 

“I’ll bring down the plane. Keep him busy.” Mei said, shooting another wall at the other wing. 

The added weight stalled the plane for a moment, and the trio and plane fell for a moment before it stabilized itself. But Mei’s plan was working; the plane was slowly making a descent to the frozen wastes below.

It couldn’t withstand the weight of the ice walls on its wings.

“What does the little cadet want?” the man growled, stalking toward the duo. 

Lena narrowed her eyes; he knew her from before. But she couldn’t quite place him. His voice sounded disembodied, and she’d only met _one_ person who could turn into a ghost, and he wasn’t her. 

But still… he knew her. 

“How do you know it’s what I want?” Lena demanded, keeping her pistols trained on the man. The plane continued to make its descent, and they were only about a hundred feet from the tundra below. 

Though the man’s face was covered, he tilted his head in a way that she knew expressed _”Really? I’m not stupid.”_ and gestured towards Mei.

“She’s not exactly the aggressive type.”

This man didn’t just know _of_ Lena. He really knew her personally.

“We want Amélie! You sick bastards did something to her and we want her back!” Lena spat, charging towards the shadow of a man. 

He let out a dark chuckle, becoming an apparition once more as Lena fell through his body. He fired a single shot, Lena blinking out of the way only to have the pellets collide with the left wall, causing it to shatter. 

The plane took a sharp right turn, the other wall forcing it down. 

Lena tried to catch her footing, but all she could do was grab the now tangible cloak of the man to keep her balance, allowing him to grab her by the throat. 

She gulped, feeling his clawed gloves tighten around her neck. 

“You were always a little bold, weren’t you?” he said, amusement in his voice. She faltered for a moment, now being this close able to hear something familiar in his voice. She did know him, and she didn’t have time to ask him why he was doing this before she heard the sickening groan of metal cracking.

The man and Lena looked towards the iced wing, watching as the metal warped under the weight of the ice that had been there too long. 

“Athena, we need that pick up!” Mei yelled into her comms unit. 

The distant sound of the drop ship could be heard, and the man turned once more to look at Lena.

“This is a disappointment, Tracer. I thought you were smarter than this?” he growled. She looked at him with wide eyes, thrashing her legs to try and kick him and get him to release his grasp on her. 

And he did release his grasp; he threw her over the edge of the plane.   
Mei screamed as Lena disappeared over the edge and the shadow turned towards her, and as Lena fell she could see the dropship in the distance closing in, and fast.

But she still had time. 

Lena always had time. 

Her chrono-accelerator began to glow a bright blue as she activated her recall, appearing mid air at the spot the man had thrown her from.

But she didn’t stop moving. 

She kept her momentum and slammed her feet into the back of his head as he stalked toward Mei, throwing him off the edge. The dropship was hovering above the plane, and Lena turned to Mei, giving her a nod.

The scientist fired a blast from her ice ray at the roof of the plane, and Lena blinked up into the air before coming down hard with both feet slamming onto the frozen metal, forcing it to give way and breach the inside of the plane. 

“Get on the drop ship, I’m going to get her!” Lena said, ducking into the hole. 

She fell into the dark ship, her weapons drawn. 

“Hola señorita. Looking for something?”

Lena turned, seeing a woman in a skin tight purple stealth suit with the hair to match, watching her with electric purple eyes watching her in an amused manner. 

“Don’t make me deal with you too.” Lena growled, both pistols trained on the woman.

She giggle, and the plane took another sharp turn, this time with an alarm going off.

“I know when I’m beat, señorita. Besides, you want something I do too. I think we can work together. What do you say?” the woman asked, extending her hand. Another crack was heard from the plane, and the woman gave Lena a wicked smile.

“I don’t think we have much time.” she said, as they felt the pilot try to engage the boosters to keep the plane from free falling. 

Lena narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but shook the woman’s hand.

 

Mei stood on the ledge of the dropship, waiting for any movement from the hole in the plane. 

The Talon pilot had managed to lift it off the ground more to keep it from crashing down below, and she hoped that gave Lena more time to get Amélie out of there before they all went tumbling to the ground. 

She squinted, seeing movement from the hole, and finding not only Lena carrying Amélie, but another woman following. 

She pursed her lips but aimed her freeze ray beneath their feet, launching them on top of a wall so they could get into the drop ship before the plane dropped out from under them. Lena had Amélie on her back, and Mei gave a glance at the woman behind them. 

She looked like trouble judging from the way she gave Mei a wicked smile. But if Lena trusted her enough to allow her onboard, them Mei wouldn’t question it for now.

“Where’s that man?” she asked, peering over the edge as the plane came crashing to the ground.”

“Who, Reaper? He’ll be fine. He’s stubborn.” the woman said, checking the spikes on her gloves as though she were looking for dirt under her fingernails. 

Mei shot the woman a glare before helping Lena move Amélie to a bench. 

Amélie was sweating and had shallow breathing. She looked sick, and it didn’t help that she was cyanotic from whatever Talon did to her. 

“Let’s go home Athena.” Lena said, sitting next to Amélie, fastening her arms in restraints incase she woke up. The doors to the dropship closed, shutting out the frigid wind of the Yukon. The ship took a turn, and they were off; two Overwatch agents and two Talon operatives flying out of Canadian air space.


	5. Puppeteer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken prisoner by the shell of what was once Overwatch, Widowmaker comes to terms with her companion potentially setting her up. Sombra isn't being forthcoming, however, and remains as cryptic as ever in her true intentions. Did she betray Talon, or is this some sort of strategy to infiltrate the disgraced organization?
> 
> Tracer holds on to hope that the woman that was stolen away by Talon is still in there somewhere, but she's got her doubts. The irritating addition of Sombra doesn't help, who seems to be playing games with Tracer's head while the Overwatch team tries to figure out how to fix Widowmaker, if there's even a way to fix her at all.

Reaper was a very stubborn man. 

It was ironic that Overwatch would be the cause of his _literal_ fall _again_. 

He trudged his way through the snow. The wind had picked up, and the clouds looked ominous in the distance. He would have to find shelter soon or risk being trapped out in a blizzard, and he knew for a fact Moira’s enhancements wouldn’t protect him from that forever. 

As he neared the crash site of the plane, he scanned the wreckage for signs of Sombra or Widowmaker. 

_”Can you… Som… ra answer me…”_ he could hear the crackling radio in the wreckage of the cockpit and he trudge through the snow to dig his way to the radio receiver. Moira had been wanting hourly status updates on Widowmaker’s condition, and Reaper guessed it had been almost three hours since the plane had crashed. 

“Moira, do you copy?” he asked, holding the receiver up higher to get a better signal.

_”Gabriel why haven’t I heard from you?!”_ Moira demanded, her voice slightly occluded by static thanks to the wind. 

“There was a complication. Sombra and Widowmaker are gone.”

_”Gone?! Where?!”_

“Overwatch. I need a ride.” he growled. 

The radio went silent for a moment, Moira no doubt barking at some lackey to get a plane in the air stat, when she came back on the radio.

_”They’re on the way. We need to find her Gabriel.”_ she said, her voice beginning to crackle as the clouds rolled in. The interference grew too much for him to respond to her, so he pulled up his hood and took cover under one of the wings that had broken off the plane.

He had learned many things in the near eight years since Overwatch had fallen, not in small part due to his decisions. One of the things he had learned was that although he hated it, he needed to be patient sometimes.

So he would be patient for now, and he would find his team.

 

She was freezing. She felt like she had finished running a marathon and been thrown into a blizzard while she was still sweating. She had not felt the cold in a long time, and to feel it so suddenly wash over her had her thrashing in whatever bed she was laying in. 

She could hear voices that sounded so far away somewhere above her, but she couldn’t see anything at all.

_”What’s wrong with her?”_

_“Lena, I’m doing everything I can but I need you to leave.”_

_“Come on señorita, let your doctor work.”_

_“Amélie, can you hear me?”_

No one had called her by that name in a long time. For all intents and purposes, Amélie Lacroix was dead. Widowmaker had murdered her.

She dreamed inbetween sudden fits of chills. 

She dreamed of her youth spent at Chateau Guillard, with summers spent riding horses in the countryside and tutors from across the world coming to educate her. She dreamed of her first ballet recital where she had earned the role as “prima” for the first time. 

She dreamed of her wedding. How Gérard had looked at her as though she had the wings of an angel as she walked down the aisle. How he had kissed her so sweetly in front of their friends and family, and how that night he had made love to her so fully and so beautifully. 

She dreamed of the ghost of her past life, when Overwatch was there and her husband was alive. 

She dreamed of a young woman with piercings in her ear and wild brown hair watching her in awe as she twirled around the stage of her recital. How afterwards she had found Amélie backstage with a huge bouquet of roses in a bright vibrant red and an adorable grin from ear to ear.  
“You were so beautiful Amélie.” the woman said, handing the bouquet to her. She laughed, smelling the roses and looked back at the woman.

“Red is for the color of love, mon cheri.” she said, giggling. The woman was quiet for a moment but was concentrating hard on the roses, as though she wanted to say something. 

As she opened her mouth to speak, a rush of fans found Amélie, and began asking for her autograph and picture. She gave the woman an apologetic smile, but she thought for a moment she had seen the woman’s lips move to form words.

_”I know.”_

 

She awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed with sweat pouring from her body. 

She looked around, her yellow eyes frantically trying to decipher her whereabouts. She wore a hospital gown, and the fluorescent lighting and gentle beeping of monitors told her she was in a medbay of some kind. She had different cords attached to her, and her eyes focused on her heart rate monitor.

122.

She looked at it, perplexed, and reached a hand up to feel the pulse on her neck.

Her heart rate was indeed going that fast.

“It’s best to take it easy.”

A blue eyed and blonde woman stood outside of a window, looking into the room. When Widowmaker looked around her room for the door, she realized there wasn’t one. The hospital room was more than that; it was a cell.

The woman had a Swiss accent, and she wore a white lab coat and had a stethoscope around her neck. Widow could only assume she was a doctor, but what sort of doctor keeps her patient’s in a cell?

“You really don’t remember me, do you Amélie?” the woman said, sadness in her eyes. 

Widow said nothing. Amélie was dead. Amélie would not answer.

“Your friend helped us run a few tests. It would seem that Talon installed a killswitch in your head, and it would appear that whoever holds the controls to it are activating some of its functions. You have a very real chance of dying, Amélie.”

Her friend? Widowmaker didn’t have friends. She had coworkers, agents, comrades and-  
“Buenos dias, chica.”

A panel slid open in the non-celled medbay, and Sombra walked in, for once not in her stealth suit but rather a blue jacket that had a logo on it’s shoulder. Widow’s eyes narrowed, and she turned back to the doctor.

This was Overwatch.

“Traitor.” Widow hissed, glaring at Sombra.

“Hey, I don't work for them. I never have. This is more of a mutually beneficial relationship.” Sombra said, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Amélie, you’re dying.” 

Widowmaker turned her glare to the doctor, but could see it clearly on the woman’s face.

Her expression was sombered; she wasn’t lying. 

“Does Talon know we’re here?” she asked, eyeing the doctor. Sombra shook her head.

“Your friend was forthcoming with the project details into your… enhancements. With luck, we’ll be able to track down the individual or individuals that have triggered the effects.” the doctor said, her fingers tapping away on a datapad. 

“Why do you care?” Widowmaker hissed, glaring at the doctor. 

The doctor’s blue eyes flashed to Widow, and she just gave her a sad smile before leaving the med bay. 

Sombra looked amused.

“Well… I didn’t think I’d be able to get inside Overwatch _this_ easily.” she hummed, looking around the med bay. Widow’s eyes stayed on her, unsure if the woman was playing a game with her or if this was some convoluted long-con that Sombra had played to break into the remnants of a ghost of an organization. 

She must have known Widow was staring at her, because she turned back to her, a smile on her face.

“In good time, hermana. In good time.”

 

Angela wouldn’t let Lena back in the med bay.

_”Lena, you don’t understand. She’s not the same person anymore.”_

Those words haunted Lena in her dreams, in her training, on her morning runs, and in every moment she breathed.

_”She has to be! One person can’t just be erased and a new person put in their place!”_

_”Lena, she’s gone. Amélie Lacroix is gone.”_

On some level she knew it was the truth. Lena had remembered the look in Amélie’s eyes when she’d tackled her on the rooftops of King’s Row; yellow eyes that belonged to something that didn’t feel anymore. 

But she still didn’t want to accept it. 

“What are you thinking about, _love?_ ”

Lena felt her jaw clench. The other Talon woman, _Sombra_ as she called herself, was an unexpected annoyance. Lena knew she looked familiar before; she’d snatched plans from the chrono accelerator to make her own teleportation device, but she didn’t figure the woman to be a Talon agent. 

“What, you still don’t trust me?”

Lena had been in the gym, throwing punches and kicks blindly at one of the practice dummies that looked like they hadn’t been touched in nearly a decade. 

She turned to Sombra, who wore a coy smile and sat on a weight bench, her legs crossed and her hands folded “innocently” on her lap. Lena wiped her face with a towel, before briskly walking by her to pick up a medicine ball. 

_Ignore her, Lena._

Even with her gear confiscated and a tracking anklet placed on her, Sombra was dangerous. She hadn’t done anything to kill them all _yet_ , but Lena didn’t put it past her. She was here because she wanted something, and everyone knew it. 

“What do think would happen if I hacked the Overwatch encrypted archives and ran off?” Sombra asked, inspecting her nails for invisible dirt. 

“I’d kill you.” 

Sombra froze for a moment, her eyes meeting Lena’s.  
“That’s not very heroic of you.” she said, reaching her hands over her head as though she was trying to stretch her back. Lena could feel her anger begin to boil; this was all a joke to Sombra. She wasn’t taking it seriously at all.

“Besides, you don’t want me dead. I’ve got too much information you want.” she continued, a smile appearing on her face once more. She was right, of course, and she knew it.

Lena turned her attention back to the weights, doing her bicep curls and trying to resist the urge to throw the weight at Sombra’s head. 

“You shouldn’t expect us to just give you Overwatch information. You know that won’t happen.” she said, trying to focus on her form in the mirror.

“No. I don’t expect that. I just expect a very specific file about a little town named Dorado. It’s not asking for much, is it?” 

Lena turned to the woman, her eyes narrowed. 

“What do you know about Dorado?” she asked.

“A fair amount. But there are some gaps in what I know, and there are some gaps in what _you_ know about Amélie, right?” Sombra said, walking towards Lena. 

Lena froze, the weights by her side.

“I’m not asking for much, chica. I just want the Dorado files, and you want to know what happened to Amélie. It’s a fair trade.” 

Lena kept her eyes trained on Sombra. Even that irritating smile had vanished, and all that was left was an unreadable expression and an even bigger mystery as to who Sombra was and what exactly she wanted. 

“I’ll… talk to the others. See what I can do.” Lena finally said.

This seemed to satisfy the woman, and she turned on her heels to leave the gym, a smug smile on her face. 

But before she was out the door completely, she looked at Lena over her shoulder and gave an almost… apologetic look. 

“Amélie Lacroix died eight years ago. That woman is just a husk of what she once was.”

And then she was gone, leaving Lena with her thoughts and fears alone once more.

Widowmaker slept. 

She slept often, and long. 

She’d lost track of the days she’d been in the med bay, only knowing the day had changed at all when she opened her eyes and saw the doctor taking notes and wearing a different set of clothes. 

But one morning when she awoke, she did not see a blonde doctor with analytical blue eyes. 

She saw a petite brunette woman with eyes the color of chestnut and honey sitting next to her bed. 

“It’s been awhile, Amélie.”


End file.
